


Three Scenes of Reconciliation

by Jenny_Starseed



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Eating Disorders, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny_Starseed/pseuds/Jenny_Starseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock always had deep affection and love for his brother. It took thirty-five years and two brushes with death for Sherlock to realize this.</p><p>Written before series two aired, slightly AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Scenes of Reconciliation

**The First Scene**

Mycroft was twenty five. Mummy called it nervous exhaustion, Sherlock called it an adverse reaction to stress and diet pills. Mycroft’s ambitions knew no bounds; he worked himself into a stupor, pulling long hours, living on caffeine pills and other slightly illegal stimulants. He was extremely image-conscious, he used to spend hours in front of the mirror, inspecting every minor error on his face and body. He took drastically unhealthy measures to slim down, to fit immaculately in his suits. It was taken for granted that Sherlock was the destructive one in the family, but Sherlock knew Mycroft was potentially more dangerous to himself since his bad habits were nearly undetectable.

His brother laid on the hospital bed, a clear thin IV tube pierced into his arm, giving him the necessary nutrition. His brother looked so pale and ill, so very unlike his stern and serious self. He didn’t like the vulnerability, the awful feeling that there was a possibility that one day his brother won’t be able to pester him. So when Mycroft woke, all groggy and tired, Sherlock took his brother’s hand and held it for a moment. At nineteen, Sherlock was still immature and childish, he told Mycroft he loved him the only way he knew how.

“You’re not an inflated penguin, Mycroft.”

 **The Second Scene**

Mycroft was forty when the first assassination attempt was made on his life. It was his quick Holmesian instinct that kept him alive, he would have been dead if he didn’t quickly duck in behind that absurd shop display of personalized key-rings. The assassin’s bullet managed to nick a rib and Mycroft was quickly rushed to the hospital. It was how, at the age of thirty-four, Sherlock was by Mycroft’s bedside for the second time in his life. His injuries were by no means life-threatening; despite the intense pain and fatigue it caused Mycroft. He was lucid enough to stare impassively at his brother’s angry and determined face. Mycroft expected some kind of taunt or jibe about his unexpectedly quick reflexes.

Sherlock was in no mood for jokes. He pointedly collected information from Mycroft about the event before leaving. He stopped for a moment as if he forgot something important; he approached his brother again, took his brother’s hand and gave him a package of Yodels. They were Mycroft’s favourite little cakes, Mycroft looked dumbfounded at his brother.

“I suppose you’ve earned these. Get well, Mycroft. Don’t worry. I will handle everything.”

 **The Third Scene**

Despite what Sherlock would have everyone believe, he does have a lot of deep affection and love for his older brother. It took thirty-five years and two brushes with death that Sherlock gave the perspective and maturity to realize this. It was Mycroft’s forty-first birthday, and they dined at Mycroft’s favourite little restaurant near where Mycroft lived. Sherlock picked at his baked fish, and spoke civilly with Mycroft about his cases and the quirks of living with John Watson. They spent some time competitively deducing the patrons around them, with Mycroft outsmarting Sherlock every time.

“You never pay attention to the personal details, Sherlock,” Mycroft lectured. “Every person is distinct, you must be attuned to people’s individual quirks and not reduce them to a statistic.”

Sherlock had forgotten what a fountain of information Mycroft was. He was always too distracted by his childish feud with Mycroft to acknowledge that Mycroft was the only person in the world who understood his thinking. He spent most of the meal absorbing all that Mycroft could teach him.

When they had finished their meal, Mycroft patted Sherlock’s hand, asking Sherlock to take care of himself. It was the closest gesture of affection and love Mycroft was capable of giving to his brother. Sherlock returned it in kind.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mwm prompt #25 (use three of the six) purple, broken, chair, mirror, yodel, fish. Also inspired by this bbcsherlock kink meme prompt. I always liked the brotherly affection Sherlock has for Mycroft in canon, it was nice to write a scene that demonstrated that in the bbc-verse.
> 
> None of these characters are mine. Unbeta-ed and unBrit-picked


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